A friend, A Francisian monk, told me death is not to be feared but merely the end of our individual circle.

Life's a feather in the wind,
sometimes breathless, it depends
on who we are . . . where we've been.
Could be a breeze shallow, low
or a whirlwind of a day.
Life's a feather in the wind
but you've crossed my path to stay.

Life's a feather. Yes, my friend,
someday those blowing winds will end.
What a joy it's been to spend
time together till we go.
All the things I've seen and heard
cannot surpass you, my friend.
I've cherished every word.

Life's a feather in the breeze
passing people with such ease--
far too many folks to please
but the ones whom we love so.
On the truth we shall depend.
The breeze of life will ease, cease.
Life's a feather in the wind.